I have felt heaviness today. Admittedly, I did not sleep well last night after taking a dose of Dramamine. I could feel the wooziness of vertigo sitting menacingly on the sidelines. I set my clock so we could walk this morning. I knew when the clock went off I did not get the medication out of my system. But there are other reasons for the heavy feelings.
June 12, 1992, I arrived at work at about 7:30 am. I was anxious to get the next week’s work tidied up because then I was off on a trip from Maine to Virginia to see my Dad for Father’s Day. My work phone rang and I picked it up. It was my step-brother’s wife. She told me my father had passed away in his sleep. I was so angry and hurt. I packed up my things, told my boss I was leaving and I did not know when I would be back. The hours and days that followed were painful. I could scarcely breathe. My marriage was already falling apart and all I wanted in the world was a hug from my Dad. It was not meant to be. Perhaps another time, another day, I will write about those next few weeks, but not today. Today, I just want to remember my Dad.
On June 12, 2016, we would slowly hear and understand the horror of the mass shooting at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, FL. It is still hard to believe. 49 innocent people lost their lives that day — all due to hate and intolerance. I will not give space here to talk about the person who committed such a horrible crime, but I will give space to those who lost their lives.
The outpouring of love from the Orlando community was breathtaking. The loss was palpable. As the mother, aunt, and friend of so many people in the LGBTQ community I will always stand for equal rights for those people who our government and much of our society would deny. The sadness still washes over me like liquid fire. It was so senseless.
Add to that the dire situation with the pandemic and the racial inequality and protests going on in our country and across the world, it is sometimes more than I can shoulder.
Today, my thoughts center around loss, of course, but more about love. The kind of love we want for every person we hold dear should be the kind of love we show everyone.
I miss you, Daddy. SO VERY MUCH.
A very sad post, and with good reason. I lost my mum in 2012, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. Thinking of you tonight, Maggie.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Thank you, Pete. This morning is brighter, with a little coolness in the air. A nice way to start a new day.
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My dad died on September 14, 2000 and a year later on Friday, September 14, 2001 President Bush proclaimed this a day of prayer and that made me feel better. I knew that it was a Remembrance for the Victims of the Terrorist Attacks on September 11, 2001, but I thought about my dad.
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I understand that totally, Jim. Time passes, but still we miss them with the same intensity.
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I’m so sorry, Maggie. I lost my dad in 2014 and still miss him terribly although a part of me is glad he is not having to live through this terrible time. He had dementia and would not have understood. The world is full of bad things happening to good people – but there are also good people who care about others regardless of differences.
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Thank you, Mary. I have thought so many times how grateful I am that my parents and my sisters did not live through this. And I agree. There are so many good people in the world. I always hope that good will prevail.
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I feel your heavy heart. Dealing with loss can be crippling.
I am so sorry for your missing the opportunity to share a needed hug from your dad. The senseless mass shootings are utterly incomprehensible.
Virtually holding you.
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Thank you, Lauren. It’s funny how the days slip up on us. I just needed the day.
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Sending (virtual) hugs and energy to you, Maggie. Such heavy memories. And I hope your vertigo stays mild.
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Thank you, Lisa. Both memories on the same day were heavy. This morning is much brighter.
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thinking of you, Maggie. hugs.
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I appreciate that so much, Wilma.
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I wish you peace for your heavy heart.
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John, thank you. Sometimes peace comes in the quiet. I appreciate your kind comment.
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Love you and very much feel your loss of your Dad.
The burdens of sadness and helplessness are being felt daily from so much of us. We can’t see our families and, to me, that is the hardest part.
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It is a difficult time, Nancy. At least we had the cabin. ❤️
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I’m grateful that we did. We will all be together again. Just need to do the work to get there….protect ourselves and others until it’s safe. In the meantime we have to VOTE, VOTE, VOTE and continue to move towards the changes in racial inequities that are so necessary. 💖
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I am sorry for your loss, Maggie, and I’ll never understand the senseless killings that have taken so many lives.
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Thank you, Dan. I will never understand it either. So senseless.
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I am so sorry that he died at Father’s Day and you never got to have that last celebration.
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It has always been a sadness for me, Elizabeth.
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It brings a wide range of emotions to many of us, often deep grief at their loss.
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I miss him every day, too..and I remember that day…the last day of school before we would drive to see him…and the news that shattered my heart. I love you, mama.
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I love you, too. So much. ❤️
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